


Mother

by BeboppinBetty



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeboppinBetty/pseuds/BeboppinBetty
Summary: James' mum has left for good, and his thoughts turn to finding his father. The Quinns help, and James considers the potential of something brewing between himself and Erin.
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not Irish so I'm not going to even attempt (and subsequently butcher) the Irish accent. You'll just have to use your imaginations!

For the first time that he could remember since coming to Derry, James had the house to himself. It was that brief overlap when his Uncle Martin had left for his nightshift and Aunt Deirdre hadn’t yet got home from her dayshift, and Michelle had taken off without a backward glance – to meet some boy, James was certain, since she never left without him if they were meeting the girls. He was grateful for the silence, for once. Usually he liked the racket of the day-to-day in the Mallon household, but in the week since his Mum had returned to London, James hadn’t had a moment’s peace between the din of family and his own inner turmoil. 

He was working this way through the dinner dishes and attempting to come to terms with all that had happened. He had chosen Derry over his mother. He’d spent his entire life desperate for her attention, and when she’d finally given it to him, he’d rejected her. Michelle’s words still haunted him: how Cathy would throw him away the minute he was no longer useful, and he wanted her to be wrong. He wanted to be angry with her for such a hateful accusation, but when he’d sat next to his mother in that taxi and told her to turn around, she hadn’t stopped him. She’d looked mildly annoyed, but in hindsight, he suspected she’d been annoyed to have made the trip up at all, to walk away with nothing. He fought the lump forming in his throat and cursed himself once again for being so damn soft.

“James?”

He jumped, sending soap suds sloshing. His Aunt Deirdre had arrived home without his notice and stood watching him warily. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“You were a million miles away,” she accused, allowing James to take her lunch bag and empty its contents into the sink. 

“Sorry,” he said again, sighing. “I made dinner. It’s in the fridge.”

She nearly smiled, which for Deirdre Mallon was as good as you’d get. “Ah, good lad.” She sat down with her plate while James dried his hands, and he felt stupidly happy to have done something to please his aunt. 

“Where’s Michelle? You’re usually joined at the hip.”

“I think she had a date or something.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms nervously, unconcerned with Michelle’s whereabouts and anxious to ask his aunt the question that’d been plaguing him the last few days. Naturally Deirdre saw right through him. “Either go fidget in another room or sit down and tell me what the problem is.” She was hard, his Aunt Dierdre, but not unkind. He sat. 

“I – I was wondering… about what Mum said … about everything really-” He was surprised at the bitterness in his voice, and so was his aunt if her expression meant anything, but she didn’t interrupt. “But mostly, I’ve been wondering about my father.” 

He’d always taken his mother’s word as gospel, and when she’d told him the first time he’d asked that his father had walked out the minute she’d learned she was pregnant, James had never questioned her again. Then he’d heard her ridiculous story about his stepdad at Erin’s house, and even through the haze of joy over her return, he’d seen it for the bullshit it was. And after Michelle had torn a strip off him when he’d wanted to leave, James had started to question a lot of the things his mother had told him over the years. 

Deirdre’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Christ, James, I didn’t expect that.” 

“I didn’t expect my whole life to be a lie,” he muttered. “But here we are.”

“What d’you mean, a lie?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about: ‘We’re going back to Ireland to start fresh, just the two of us’, or ‘Paul’s the only dad you’ll ever need. He loves you as much as I do.’ Which is a joke since I haven’t heard from him since I’ve been here. Or maybe that wasn’t a lie. Maybe he did love me as much as she did, which is not at all since she left me here! And please don’t tell me to dry my fucking eyes!” He was on his feet as the anger took over, pacing the kitchen, not sure how to let it out. He’d never felt so much rage in all his life, and its presence only seemed to make him even more livid. 

He whirled on his aunt, who was leaning back in her chair looking inexplicably pleased. “There’s Irish in you yet, boy.” 

“Of course there is!” He shouted. “I’m completely fucking Irish! It’s only my accent that’s English!” They all seemed to forget the fact that both of his parents had been born and raised in Derry. Cathy had done everything in her power to ignore that fact, so he’d often forgotten it as well, but not anymore. “So if you could please tell me my father’s name, I’d like to ask him myself if it was just my Mum who didn’t want me-”

He heard his voice crack and inside himself felt the dam burst. He tried desperately to choke back the sob that threatened, sure his aunt would roll her eyes and mutter something about him being an English prick, but he couldn’t. “Why aren’t I good enough for her?” His voice sounded small and pathetic even to his ears, and he wanted to crawl into a hole and shut the world out. 

In an instant Deirdre was out of her seat. She dragged him into a crushing hug, and under his aunt’s iron grip, James sobbed into her shoulder. She rubbed his back and made soothing sounds, and when he finally pulled away from her, desperately ashamed, she reached for the tea towel and dried his cheeks. “No, lad. She’s not good enough for you.” 

James searched for something, anything to say that would make him feel less foolish. “I guess I’m a little bit English.” 

Deirdre let out a snort of laughter. “We’ll beat it out of you yet, mark my words.” Then she continued to surprise him by unearthing a bottle of whiskey and pouring two glasses. He took a sip and prided himself on swallowing it without so much as a grimace. Deirdre sighed over her glass. “Truth be told, James, I’m not certain your Ma even told your father about you. I’ll help you find him if that’s what you want, but know this: whatever happens, you’ve got a place here always.” 

James took another mouthful of whiskey to drown the emotion that threatened to well up again. He met his aunt’s eye and found the courage to ask the other question that’d been gnawing at him. “Why? Why did you let Mum dump me here?” 

Deirdre looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re family. My useless shite of a sister aside, this family takes care of its own.” 

Just like when Michelle had told him she didn’t want him to leave, James felt an unexpected spark of gratitude. He knew this moment wouldn’t last forever and he didn’t want to ruin it by acting like a sap, so he only smiled. Deirdre smiled back, just for an instant, and then the moment was swiftly ended by the sound of the front door crashing open. Deirdre jumped to her feet and grabbed the whiskey bottle to stash it. “Christ, if Michelle sees this we’ll not hear the end of it. You tell her about my hiding spot and I’ll skin you alive.”

James downed the last mouthful in his glass and hurried to hide the evidence in the sink. “My lips are sealed.” She fixed him with a beady eye. “I’ll know if even a drop goes missing, and so if it does you’ll be answering to your Uncle, understand?”

James grinned. “Yes, Aunt Deirdre.” 

“Get out of here. She’s got a nose on her like a bloodhound.” 

He paused in the doorway and tried to think of the right way to tell his aunt how grateful he was without spoiling her mood, but she was already shouting at Michelle, so he slipped out of the room quietly. He wondered if this was what it was like to have a real mother.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hemmed and hawed over continuing this as a multi-chapter story. There is a lot going on here, so if you enjoyed the first chapter as a standalone, feel free to stop here! I debated separating the James/Erin storyline into a different fic altogether, but I'm hoping to dovetail it nicely at the end with the other themes. I'm not actually a James/Erin shipper if I'm honest, so we'll see how it goes.

It was fair to say that James’ favourite place in Derry was the Quinn house. He loved the chaos and the warmth, and the way Mary Quinn ran the household with equal parts iron fist and loving care. But right then as he used his foot to bang on the front door, James wished he were anywhere else. The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Quinn, who took one look at James carrying her daughter in his arms, and planted her hands on her hips. “Have some news you’d like to share?” she drawled, mouth pinched. “No, it’s not like that Mrs. Quinn-” he stammered, his arms beginning to tremble under Erin’s weight. Erin whimpered and he leaned against the doorframe for a bit of support, and Mary’s expression changed instantly. “God, Erin, you’re white as a sheet.” 

“It really hurts, Mammy. My leg.” 

Mary’s eyes rounded wide at the sight of Erin’s leg. “Oh my god, look at the size of it! What happened?” She turned and shouted for Gerry. Erin clung to James’ shoulders and even through the haze of agony, shot him a warning look. “She tripped off the kerb,” James explained hastily. “I think I heard a crack, and then she sort of fainted.” 

“Fainted!” Mary exclaimed, just as Mr. Quinn arrived on scene. “Here, son,” he said and took one of Erin’s arms over his shoulder so that between the two of them supporting her she was able to stand on her good leg. She was clammy, her hair stuck to her face in a cold sweat, and leaned heavily on him. 

“Love, we’re taking you to hospital,” Gerry declared, and James didn’t miss the fear that flashed in Mary’s eyes. He’d never seen her afraid before, and it worried him. Suddenly he wasn’t so certain that Erin would be fine, despite the vigor with which she was now cursing. He was relieved when Mrs. Quinn’s fear was replaced with suspicion, and as she launched into an interrogation as he and Mr. Quinn helped Erin hobble to the car. 

“Just how in God’s name did you trip off the kerb? Have you been drinking? Don’t you lie to me, Erin Quinn.” 

“No,” Erin snarled. “I have not been drinking. I just tripped!” She elbowed James sharply, and he was about to apologize if he’d hurt her when he realized it was his turn to jump in. “It’s true, Mrs. Quinn. It was just an accident.” In fact, that part was the only truth of the story. The real story was that Michelle and Orla had eaten magic mushrooms and Erin had fallen while she, James, and Clare had tried to corral them and stop them running around into traffic. When Erin had tripped, Michelle and Orla had run off with Clare close behind, shouting over her shoulder that she’d catch them and then kill them herself. 

Mary zeroed in on James, eyes narrowed. “Is that so? And how is it that James came to be carrying you home by himself? Where’s Orla and the other girls? Or was it you two were going off together, alone? Maybe there’s nothing innocent about this at all!” James’ mouth fell open and he shot a look at Erin, who was staring at her mother in disbelief. “For Christ’s sake, Mammy, my foot’s hanging sideways off my leg and you’re choosing this moment to question James’ intentions?” 

Mary blinked once or twice and seemed to come back to herself. “I’m sorry, James, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just beside myself here – I’m coming! I just need my purse.” She stopped short at the door, looking horrified. “Anna! She’s in bed already, I’ll have to wake her. Nobody else is home!” James hadn’t seen Mary so out of sorts since she’d tried to prepare for President Clinton’s visit, so he took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “I’ll stay with Anna, Mrs. Quinn. Just go.” The naked gratitude on her face warmed James so much he’d have happily thrown Erin off the sidewalk every day of the week just to see it again. “Ah, God bless ya James.” She hurried to the car and barely had the door shut before Gerry started away. He called out the window that they’d ring with an update, and then they were gone. 

James watched until the taillights disappeared around the corner, and it began to sink in what a complete nightmare this was. He had no idea what had happened to the girls and no way of telling them about Erin. He couldn’t call round looking for them either, because one of the Mums was bound to figure out something was up. He’d have to call home eventually, but until then he’d just have to pray that Clare had things under control. 

He wondered if he was supposed to go check on Anna, then found the baby monitor on the table and decided it was safer to just carry that around. He fidgeted in the kitchen for a moment, uneasy about being alone in the Quinns’ house. The place was always chaotic, so to see it so unnaturally quiet felt like a bad omen. It had scared the hell out of him when Erin had fallen, because he’d been close enough to hear the sound and see the look on her face. Michelle had laughed, of course, and then she and Orla had taken off, but he didn’t really freak out until Erin had fainted. 

What if it was worse than they thought? What if something really bad happened while she was in hospital? 

He’d always been prone to overthinking things and so tried to talk some sense into himself, but the fear in Mary Quinn’s face kept coming back to him. He wondered, was that just a Mum thing? Or was Erin in real trouble? He tried to remember how his mother had reacted that time he’d ridden his bike into a parked car, but all he could come up with was a vague memory of Paul picking him up and dusting him off, and putting him back on his bicycle. There was no warm hug or kissed brow; he didn’t know if Cathy had even been there. Lately, any thought of his mother had James’ stomach twisting unpleasantly with anger and resentment, and then guilt for feeling that way. Still, he had to wonder how quickly his Mum would jump to rush him to the hospital if he were the one hurt. 

He spent a couple of hours sulking and watching TV before the phone rang. It felt distinctly odd to be answering the phone with a formal “Quinn residence”, but Gerry had said he’d ring with an update, so James felt he had no choice. 

“James, it’s Gerry. Listen, are you able to stay the night?” He sounded stressed, and James’ stomach dropped. “What’s happened? Is Erin alright?” 

“It’s a bad break. She’ll be grand, but they’re still deciding if she needs surgery or not.” 

“Fuck,” James breathed, then winced. “Sorry!” 

“No,” Gerry sighed. “That’s about right. Mary’s beside herself. We can’t reach Sarah, and Joe’s out of town for the weekend with Jim-” 

“It’s no problem, Mr. Quinn. I can stay. I’ll ring home if there’s any problem.” 

“You’re a lifesaver, James. We’ll be home soon as we can.” 

James hung up the phone with shaking hands. This was bad. Like, really bad. He’d always thought there was a limit to how much trouble they could cause, but this was next level. Erin was seriously hurt, and if anyone found out about Michelle and Orla, they’d all be absolutely fucked. 

~ 

James startled awake, for a moment not sure where he was. Then it all came rushing back, and he shot upright, sure he’d missed Anna’s cries despite the fact the baby monitor was pressed into his cheek. Gerry was at the foot of the sofa, blanket in hand. “It’s alright, son, it’s just me.” 

“Mr. Quinn-” James rubbed his eyes and tried to catch up. The house was pitch dark, save for the hall light casting a dim glow. “You’re home? Is Erin-?” 

“She’s still at the hospital. Mary sent me home to get a couple hours’ sleep. They’ll be home tomorrow.” 

“Oh. I guess I should go, then.” 

“I don’t think so, it’s the middle of the night. You’ll stay here.” He tossed James the blanket, and for a moment James was reminded of his step-father. Paul would have done the same, and now that he thought of it, Paul and Gerry were a lot alike. Good-natured, long-suffering, compassionate. Maybe that’s why James had always had an affinity for Erin’s dad. Of course, James didn’t think Gerry would have abandoned his kids, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Mr. Quinn? Are you alright?” 

Gerry seemed surprised, then attempted a smile but didn’t quite make it. “It’s scary being a parent, you know. You’ll learn that for yourself one day. Now, get some sleep.” 

But it was a long while before James slept again. Mr. and Mrs. Quinn were made to be parents. He couldn’t imagine them as people independent of their family. So why had Erin got so lucky while he’d wound up with two, maybe three, parents who had no interest in the job?


	3. Chapter 3

“Oi, Dicko, what happened to you last night?” 

James barely looked up from his cereal. “More like what happened to you?” 

Michelle poured herself coffee and picked some flakes from the cereal box between them. “We were at Clare’s.” 

He leaned back in his seat to study her. She didn’t look much worse for wear, and seemed totally oblivious. “Michelle, how much do you actually remember?” She scoffed. “I remember things fine. You and Erin completely fucking chickened out eating the mushrooms, then you ditched us.” 

James shook his head and returned to his breakfast. Mr. Quinn had woken him early and dropped him off on the way back to the hospital, and in Erin’s defense James didn’t intend to make this easy for Michelle. “I stayed at Erin’s.” 

“Really?” Michelle’s brows hit her hairline. “Mary let you stay over? Alone? Christ, but that must make you feel absolutely useless as a man.” James ignored the barb about his masculinity. “Actually, I was babysitting for Anna while they took Erin to the hospital.” 

“What?” 

“You remember how you thought it was so hilarious when she fell off the kerb? Well, she broke her leg. Badly.” He watched a parade of emotion march across Michelle’s face, but could only shake his head when she settled on disbelief. “Oh, fuck off. You’re lying.” James shrugged, unconcerned if she believed him or not. Eventually Aunt Deirdre joined them, forgoing breakfast for coffee. “I just spoke to Mary, James, and she says to tell you to come round tomorrow so she can thank you properly. I’ll make a casserole.” 

“They’re home then? How’s Erin?” 

“They don’t think she needs surgery, thank God, but they’ll have to go back in a week or so to make sure.” 

Michelle choked on her coffee. “Surgery?” she spluttered, coughing. Deirdre gave Michelle a long, narrow look before turning back to James. “Listen, I had to do some digging but I’ve come up with a name for you. Mind you, I can’t confirm it myself since I wasn’t around much when it all was going on, but it’s somewhere to start.” James felt a sharp pang in his stomach and his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. When Deirdre had offered to track down his biological father for him the week before, James hadn’t really expected anything to come of it. Now he wasn’t sure what he wanted. “Thanks,” he said weakly, uncertainty churning in his gut. 

After breakfast Michelle dragged him into her room and demanded an explanation about the night before. James sighed. “I told you, because you and Orla were high and acting like idiots, Erin broke her leg,” he said testily, annoyed and not experiencing an ounce of guilt for making Michelle feel bad about it. “Clare was too busy running after you, so after Erin fainted –” Michelle’s eyes went wide and James enjoyed turning the screw a bit. “ – I carried her home. I certainly couldn’t call round looking for you three or else we’d have been figured out.” 

“Fuck,” Michelle breathed. “Fuck fuck fuck.” She started pacing, shooting him looks every few seconds like she was trying to find a way to blame him, then threw up her hands. “I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t think-” 

James raised his brows; Michelle looked chagrined. After a moment, she changed the subject. 

“What was my Mam talking about, she found you a name?” 

“Oh. For my father. My birth father.” 

“Your Ma never told you?” 

“She told me a lot of things,” he said bitterly. “Now it’s up to me to separate fact and fiction, apparently.” 

“Jesus, what a piece of work she is.” 

James knew that was about the extent of sympathy he’d get from his cousin, but he appreciated it nonetheless. 

“So what’re you going to do?” 

The prospect of finding his father had seemed like a good idea until he realized maybe there was a reason he wasn’t in James’ life. Maybe this guy really hadn’t wanted him, and tracking him down would only result in more misery. “I have absolutely no idea.” 

~ 

Michelle stalled outside the Quinns’ door for so long that James had to wonder how guilty she was really feeling. Finally he reached for the handle, only briefly wondering when he’d crossed the milestone of just letting himself in. “Are you coming or not?” When she fell in behind him without calling him a dick in some form or another, he knew it was serious. Michelle veered off to talk to Erin, who was laid up on the couch, while he called out a greeting and headed for the kitchen to hand over the casserole his aunt had made. Mary beamed when she saw him. “James, come here love.” She pulled him into a hug so warm and comforting he could have cried. “I can’t thank you enough.” 

“It was nothing, Mrs. Quinn. Honestly.” 

“It was nothing short of heroic, the way you carried poor Erin all the way home,” Sarah interjected, wide-eyed. “Orla was just beside herself when she found out - she’s been desperate to try out one of her homemade splints. I swear to you, Mary, I’ve had to stop her throwing herself down the stairs so she’d have something to practice on.” 

James exchanged a look with Mary and wisely decided to keep his opinions to himself. He went over to join the girls, and judging the way Michelle was now drawing on Erin’s cast, the two of them had made peace. Orla sat with Erin’s foot in her lap, her own decoration taking up half the real estate on the plaster. He leaned over the back of the couch. “How’re you feeling?” Erin sighed. “Sore. Pissed off,” she added, shooting a glare at the other girls, who studiously ignored her. Apparently peace hadn’t quite been reached. James didn’t blame her. She smiled, lowering her voice. “Thanks for, y’know, saving me.” 

James felt his cheeks warm. “I did nearly drop you twice.” 

“I think he’s calling you fat there, Erin,” Michelle chimed in, not looking up. James was instantly mortified, but to his surprise, Erin rolled her eyes. “He’s not. He’s saying if he’d had help it would’ve been a lot easier,” she said pointedly. James saw his cousin’s shoulders tense. “Jesus,” Michelle huffed. “I said I was sorry, alright?” Eager to avoid a fight, James intervened and drew Erin’s attention. “Will you be back at school this week?” 

“I dunno. Depends on how long Mammy’ll let me milk it, and since there’s only a week ‘til the Christmas break…” 

“So you’ll be back tomorrow?” He joked. Erin laughed a little and shrugged. “She’s feeling guilty, so maybe Tuesday.” 

Mary appeared with Erin’s lunch on a tray, setting it down with a cheerful smile – one James had enough experience with to deem suspicious. She waved a hand airily, as though she’d just remembered something. “Erin, tell me again why it was just James bringing you home? You lot are pack animals, I thought? You’re never not together.” 

Erin heaved a sigh. “Ma, I told you a thousand times,” she said steadily. “We were going to Clare’s, but I wanted to come get a different jacket first. James came with me. I tripped. End of story. But if you want me to invent something scandalous to make you feel better, I will.” James had to duck his face to hide his smile. Erin had certainly got more clever since he’d known her, when it came to dealing with her mother. Mary narrowed her eyes at them all for a moment before storming away in a huff. 

“She’s been doing that for two days,” Erin muttered in his ear. “Trying to catch me out.” 

“If she was smart, she’d have waited ‘til Clare got here,” he whispered back. 

“Holy fuck, Erin, what kind of pain pills did they give you? Because I’ve never seen you so calm.” Michelle reached for the pill bottle on the table. “Can I have one?” 

Erin snatched it away from her. “No you cannot have one, Michelle!” 

“Well we’re going to have to give some to Clare when she gets here ‘cause we all know she’s going to cack herself.” 

“Yes, because drugs are clearly the answer to this situation,” Erin hissed warningly. 

“Which is funny,” Orla interjected, not looking up from her drawing. “Because-” 

Erin kicked her, hard, at the same time Michelle said loudly: “James, tell ‘em about your Da!” 

Erin’s eyes were on him instantly, hopeful. “Your step-dad? Did he call?” 

James ignored the sad, bitter seed in his gut at the mention of Paul. “No. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately about my birth father-” 

“-Because his Ma was feeding him utter shite this whole time-” 

James scowled at Michelle. “The point is I don’t know what’s true and what’s not, so Auntie Deirdre told me who he is. Or, who she thinks he is, anyway. Michael Connelly.” He turned the name over in his mind, trying to form a picture of who his father might be. He only managed to picture Paul or Gerry Quinn, the only examples he knew. 

“Michael Connelly? Sure, I’ve not heard that name in years.” 

James straightened up, surprised though he knew he shouldn’t be. “Did you know him, Sarah?” 

“Oh aye, back then all the girls were mad for him. Dead sexy, he was. Isn’t that right, Mary?” 

“The way I remember it, he was nothing but trouble.” 

“Well, Aunt Deirdre thinks he’s my father.” 

Mary looked completely agog, but Sarah tilted her head and stared at him for a long moment, then nodded. “I can see it. Of course, he wasn’t so soft like, but aye, I can see it.” 

In all his life, James had never considered there might be someone who shared his features; someone people could judge by just a look and say ‘that’s your dad’. The idea both warmed and unsettled him. Michelle was skeptical, however. “They’re saying this Michael Connelly’s a ride, so he can’t possibly be related to you. Problem solved.” 

“Michelle!” Erin sighed. “Are you going to find him?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve barely had time to think about it. I don’t even know where I’d start.” 

Mary fisted her hands on her hips. “What does your mother have to say about all this?” she demanded, her dark eyes snapping. James tried not to compare Mary’s indignation on his behalf to his own mother’s self-serving behaviour, but it was impossible, so he swallowed back the anger as best he could. “The thing is, Mrs. Quinn, I don’t really trust what my mum says, so I haven’t asked her.” Mary scowled and muttered something about his mum that he didn’t quite catch, then sighed. “Maybe my Da knows something. Leave it with me.” 

James didn’t know what to say, other than a feeble thank you. Part of him wished he hadn’t said anything at all.


End file.
